Dance With Me
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Carick AU. Oneshot. Rick went looking to make a change to his life. He had no idea how big that change might become. Carol/Rick


**AN: This little scene is from the Tumblr post that wanted Carol and Rick meeting at a masquerade ball.**

 **I own nothing from the show.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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An attempt to throw together a last minute masquerade costume had led Rick to land somewhere between a count—what he'd been aiming for—and someone who simply had put on a well pressed and elegant outfit. The mask wasn't too well-fitting either, but the last minute was the last minute. It wasn't too bad, really. At least he wasn't some kind of overstuffed pirate like one of the men that was there.

He'd turned down the invitation to the ball as soon as it had arrived. It was a charity ball. It was hosted every year, put on by the city council, and everyone was invited as long as they were willing to pay the fifty bucks to come. The money went to charity. That wasn't why Rick had turned it down.

He'd turned it down because of the glaring option for the "Plus One" that he could check and return with an additional fifty added to the check that he sent in for payment. Childish or not, he'd turned it down by ripping it up—never sending any response back—and he'd brooded over it. He could admit, readily, that he brooded.

It was something of a resolution to himself, made the night before when he'd had a moment of wondering what he was doing with his life now that he seemed to be slipping into abandoning his resolve to do anything beyond watch bad television, which had made him rush out to buy the costume. He was going to take his life back, one night at a time, and he wasn't going to be dragged down by the fact that his marriage had failed.

Marriages failed. That's what they did. That's what he told himself. And he wasn't going to live the rest of his life brooding over a failed marriage when the woman that had left him didn't so much as lose an hour's worth of sleep over the whole thing unless it was about what the other women at whatever clubs she attended might think about her affair.

They didn't put scarlet letters on women anymore, but that didn't mean that people didn't talk.

Luckily for Rick, charity was charity and they were always looking for an extra dollar to help out with whatever cause they were short on cash for. At the door he'd explained, although probably not too convincingly, that he'd lost his ticket. It had simply gotten misplaced. He'd meant to send it in. He was terribly sorry, and of course he'd pay the fifty dollar fee—and he'd throw in a little extra. It was, after all, for the children.

Now that he was here, he was already feeling a good deal better than he'd been feeling at home, alone. Even his costume, uncomfortable as it may be, was loaning him something of a confidence that he hadn't felt in a while—that he hadn't felt since Lori had pretty much destroyed every ounce of trust he'd ever had in her and had threatened to do the same for all women. And what was giving him more confidence? The fact that a woman had shown more than a little interest in him. She was almost pursuing him.

A princess, perhaps?

In the bright blue that she was wearing, her mask a mix of blue and white, Rick assumed that she might be something of an ice princess. Maybe she was a fairy. A fairy was more suiting, he thought, because he assumed that only his ex-wife could hold the throne of ice princess.

The bodice on the blue dress was cinched tight. The bosom of it was the old fashioned kind that, like a corset, made the woman appear bustier than she probably was without it—but it was clear that there was nothing objectionable about her figure. Even without the tight dress and the breast-boosting-bodice, the woman would clearly be attractively built.

And she was pursuing him, but she retained enough of something else—humility or expectation for his role—that she wouldn't approach him. She was leaving that to him, but she was leaving the door open.

He could take it, and spend the evening dancing with this beautiful woman—her hair showing her to be of a certain age, but also glittering beautifully with the lights and complimenting the dress she'd chosen—or he could refuse and pick out someone for himself.

But he'd be hard pressed, he confirmed with a scan around the room, to find a more visually pleasing partner for the evening.

So he asked her to dance. He couldn't help but smile when she feigned surprise, accepted his hand, and then gave him a beautiful smile to go with the rest of her appearance.

At first, she didn't speak to him at all, and he didn't speak to her beyond the invitation to dance. He pulled her into him, most the dances chosen for the evening slow dances of one kind or another, and did his best to match the movements of those around him. She rocked in time, resting her head against him, for a moment, and finally he heard her laughing—a soft, tinkling laugh. She was trying to keep it to herself.

He pushed her away enough to see her. He let her know that he wanted to speak to her. She stood in front of him, stopping their dance for the moment, and he realized—though he'd never noticed it before—that her face was as pleasing as the rest of her. At least, what he could see of her face was. He doubted the mask she wore, one that revealed blue eyes that were nearly the same shocking color as her dress, could really hide too much.

"What are you laughing about?" He asked, keeping his voice low to keep their conversation between them.

"You're trying too hard," she offered.

Rick raised his eyebrows, but he wasn't sure if the move was visible with his own half-mask.

"Me?" He asked. "You followed me around for half an hour. You're the one that was trying too hard."

She looked shocked, taken aback even, and her mouth fell open somewhat. Then she returned to smiling at him.

"I was talking about the dance," she said. "You're trying too hard. You're pulling me around like a rag doll and I'm having to move my feet constantly to keep you from stepping on them. Don't try so hard. Nobody's looking. Nobody's paying us any attention. Just—dance. It doesn't have to be what everyone else is doing. It doesn't have to be—elaborate. You're not Fred Astaire, and I'm certainly not Ginger Rogers. We don't have anyone to impress. Don't try so hard."

Rick felt properly reprimanded. He felt embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he admitted.

The woman renewed her smile.

"I'm Carol," she said. "And that's an odd name."

Rick chuckled in spite of his own embarrassment at having scolded the woman for showing her interest in him—something that, honestly, had made his night better than anything else that had happened so far. She wasn't going to accept apology, though. She didn't seem to need it.

"Rick," he said. "I'm Rick."

"Did you...want to keep dancing? Rick?" Carol asked.

Rick cleared his throat and nodded.

"Very much so," he said.

She resumed her position, leaning against him, and this time he didn't make the effort to try to keep up with everyone else. He simply let them both sway, easily, only changing their location slightly from time to time. Without so much concern about his feet and whether or not he was doing what everyone else was doing, it didn't take long for Rick to relax.

And as soon as he relaxed?

It didn't take very long to think about how nice the woman—Carol—felt in his arms. For a moment? It was just easy. They simply swayed, without expectation, and enjoyed each other's quiet company. It felt like there was no expectation. It had been a very long time since Rick had felt like he could entirely relax in the company of a woman. For the longest time, before they'd divorced, Rick had felt like the air around Lori was always heavy with expectation, even if he didn't know what she expected exactly.

But he did know.

She expected him to find a better job. To get a promotion. She expected him to be something worth talking about around town, and then something better to talk about. She expected him to be the perfect father—putting even Ward Cleaver to shame. She expected trips to exotic places and vacations bought with the extra money he earned at the job that robbed him of the time for those kinds of things. She expected romance from him. She wanted to be swept off her feet. She never took into account that his own exhaustion and her constant expectation made romance often the farthest thing from Rick's mind.

But right now? Carol in his arms and swaying gently with him to music that he'd never identify? There was no expectation. There was no future. There wasn't even a whisper of hope about a future. There was just the moment and a slow dance shared with a beautiful woman.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," Rick said when he'd gathered together the courage to apologize once more and humble himself before the queen—not an ice princess at all—that deigned to dance with him. "I was on edge. I was defensive. And I had no reason to be. Not toward you."

"I don't need an apology," she responded back quietly. "In my experience? They're not worth much anyway. The damage, if there's any done, is already done. The apology doesn't repair a thing."

Rick swallowed.

"Was there damage done?" He asked, almost fearing her response.

She hummed.

"Nothing that another dance won't heal," she said. "And—maybe an invitation to coffee? Or a dinner some night? After all—the best way to make up for my hurt feelings over being called out on pursuing is to be pursued."

Rick chuckled to himself.

She was leaving a door open to him. Just as she'd done before. Her interest was expressed. It was clear. She was, and he knew it, paving a road for his ego. He need not fear that she'd turn him down and crush him, but she was going to require him to do something. She was going to require him to walk through the door that she'd left open if he wanted to see her again.

That was the question that he had to ask himself.

Did he want to see her again? He hadn't dated since Lori. He'd honestly done very little dating before Lori. He'd believed that Lori was the only woman for him and asking this woman out? It felt like it would be Rick admitting that maybe he was wrong. Maybe Lori hadn't been the only woman for him at all. Maybe she'd never even been right for him.

If he asked this woman out, would the magic be broken? Right now, swept up in the moment, he was having the best time he could remember having in some time, but would his queen—stripped of her regal robes—be less exciting outside of this night? Would it all just be a big mistake?

But then, she might think the same thing about him. It was a chance that she was taking. It was a risk. She knew him no better than he knew her. There was just as great a possibility that he'd disappoint her as there was that she'd disappoint him.

She rocked against him, and for a moment he felt her trail her fingers absentmindedly over his back. She hummed to herself, in tune with the music, and Rick realized that it had changed. She obviously knew this song. She obviously liked it. He'd already accepted, without realizing it, one part of her stipulation. Another dance. And he wanted that dance. He wanted another too, and another. He wanted to dance with her until they asked him to leave.

Suddenly? The decision was made for him, for better or for worse.

"How about dinner?" Rick asked. "I get off kind of late. Seven. But I'd love if you had dinner with me. Friday?"

Carol pulled away just enough to smile at him.

"It just so happens, I'm free," she said. "And—I like eating later. I sleep better on a full stomach anyway, don't you?"

Rick chuckled.

"Actually, I do," he admitted.

"Friday," Carol confirmed.

"Friday," Rick said.

"But for now? Dance with me?" Carol asked.

Rick's only response was to pull her back to him and, at the risk of trying too hard, take them both into his best executed and dramatic turn before they settled back into the easy dance from before.


End file.
